On the seventh day of our journey the storm hit. I was up on deck looking out onto the vast blue green of the Orichalcum Ocean when I heard Brother Bernabo talking to the Eagle Talon’s Captain. Silas Pinkspit was a grizzled Half-Orc who looked and spoke like a pirate, but I already knew from Lore Sight what his class was.

  Name: Silas Pinkspit

  Class: Privateer

  Level: 22

  Title: Captain of the Eagle’s Talon

  Lore: Once a street tough, Silas Pinkspit was press ganged onto an Empire Navy vessel in his early teens and has rarely set foot on land since. His love of the sea is only matched by his devotion to the Empire and raiding the ships of her enemies as a licensed Privateer. Not every item he seizes makes it into the inventory reports sent to the Chancellor of the Imperial Navy.

  “We’ll carve up the coast t’werds Tekslav then cut east to the Gnoll Isles. From there the southern winds’ll curry us to th’ port, aye.”

  “That seems a further route than usual, Captain. I have made the journey to Port Tyren before, and one would save several days sailing east directly to Khaf-mir-dun then making the two-day journey north to the Port from there.” The monk took an involuntary step back when Captain Pinkspit’s one good eye narrowed.

  “Bad things in the sea around Khaf-mir-dun these days, monk. Bad things.” Brother Bernabo swallowed.

  “I defer to your experience in these matters, of course.” Captain Pinkspit nodded slowly and walked aft to bellow orders at his men.

  That had been several hours ago. Now the sea tossed the Eagle’s Talon about as if it were a child’s toy in a tub, but I doubted the sea would be as warm and welcoming as my bathtub back home. Home. I was thinking about it now as I fought to keep my footing steady and my breakfast in my stomach as I was coming dangerously close to losing both. The muttered prayers and whimpers of the other Novices who were all huddled below in the cabin we all shared had finally driven me out. That and the smell. Poor Loris had been overwhelmed by sea sickness and was currently lying in his hammock groaning.

  Reaching the deck, the wind smacked me in the face like a wet towel. Squinting my eyes and pulling the cowl of my monk’s habit as low as possible, I looked around. The crew were rushing about to pull in the sails and tie down anything loose upon the deck. Nobody paid attention to me and Captain Pinkspit’s normally larger than life voice was nearly drowned out by the wind. It was dark. Very dark. Was it not still barely past midday? Fear started to creep around the edges of my mind.

  I am going to die at sea. My second life wasted before I accomplish anything.

  “No,” I growled, and I approached a bundle of rope near a barrel and started wrapping it about my waist then tying it securely to the barrel, which I verified as empty. It would make a serviceable makeshift floatation device if nothing else. I finished not a moment too soon. It was then that IT appeared.

  Aramyr is full of monsters. I had been taught that both by my tutors and books. I knew that killing these monsters brought rewards of wealth, powerful items and increased experience in one’s chosen class. When I beheld what emerged from the sea to loom over the Eagle’s Talon, I saw no great reward in the rows of spear like teeth. I saw only death.

  “Abyssal Wyrm!”, shouted Captain Pinkspit. “Turn us about! Hard to starboard!” The ship lurched and I clung to the railing, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the Abyssal Wyrm. It was massive. How could such a thing exist? Ord’s Mercy, it looked like it could swallow Eagle’s Talon whole!

  Name: Abyssal Wyrm

  Level: ???

  Lore: The Abyssal Wyrm is a creature who slumbers in the deepest trenches of the ocean and will only awaken when the fiercest storms upon the surface stir it to action. It is known to hunt sharks, whales, giant sea squid and passing ships some believe it may mistake for a whale. This one is both hungry and angry.

  I blinked away the soul window and stared at the Abyssal Wyrm in horror. Normally I would be disassembling what Lore Sight had told me, but everything was secondary to our impending death. How could we escape such a creature? Why was it just floating there, its eyes like black pits just staring at us all like that?

  We probably look like tiny minnows to it. I don’t think it has mistaken us for a whale either. Is it… smiling?

  The Abyssal Wyrm’s neck constricted and like an adder its head shot forth to snatch up a screaming crewman who had been clutching the rigging above and trying to make himself invisible. His efforts had clearly failed, and I winced to see blood fountain from his mouth as the Wyrm bit down savagely into his body.

  “Get a harpoon in ’im, by the Jaws of Mahalib!” cried Captain Pinkspit. The half-orc had a drawn cutlass he sliced through the air as if he could cut through the wind and the rain itself. He cut an impressive and dashing figure, I thought. Then the Abyssal Wyrm bit him in half. I gaped as Pinkspit’s severed waist spat blood into the air before collapsing onto the deck. The crew lost it after that. Some threw themselves overboard thinking to either take their chances in the sea or to die by drowning rather than to the Wyrm.

  I fell to my knees upon the deck. “Lady Mir, Great Ord, I am afraid! What should we do? How do we fight such a monster?” Fear has a way of slowing moments to a crawl, and I must have knelt upon that bloody deck for a few seconds at the most, but it felt as if I had been there for hours when I felt a hand clutch my shoulder from behind.

  “Rise, Kenric Ordheim!” It was Brother Bernabo. His face was fierce, and I felt a moment of hope, for his eyes were filled with determination and not a sliver of fear. With his help, I regained my feet and I swayed drunkenly when the Abyssal Wyrm attacked the ship itself. It reared back its head, hissed then gave a great swipe of its head directly into the central mast, cracking the thick wood nearly in half and sending splinters flying. Brother Bernabo and I watched as the mast split down the middle before slowly toppling over into the churning sea like a felled tree, taking several crewmen with it into the depths.

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  “Listen to me, Kenric!” Bernabo shouted, his voice straining to be heard over the howling wind. “You will survive this! I have used the Augury skill, and you will survive!” I blinked my eyes. What was Bernabo saying? Augury? I would live?

  “How, Brother?”

  “Have faith, Kenric. I know not how. Let yourself be guided by the Gods. Now, take this!” He thrust a small, brown box into my hands.

  You have received a Rune Lockbox.

  The wind was still blowing into my eyes, but I beheld a simple box sealed with a Ward of Twisting Locks. This was the lockbox Brother Bernabo had told us all about before we had departed. There was a special way to open it and the secret had been given to all of us should anything happen to Brother Bernabo. It was a common failsafe measure, which I had never even considered as important, until now. I accepted the box without a word and stuffed it into the satchel that scarcely left my side since I had left home. I had been keeping my Inventory a secret, as it would have been tough to explain how I had one when I wasn’t supposed to have a class yet. The satchel held nothing of great value, save a few trinkets the monks at the Priory had allowed me to keep. I wasn’t supposed to possess any worldly goods save what was provided by the Church of Light, after all.

  “That box must reach Hierophant Johannes at Port Tyren. If the Hierophant is not at the Port, then you must seek him out. It is vital that it reach him, no matter how long it takes, do you understand?” Brother Bernabo’s gaze was intense, and he clutched my arm to the point of it nearly hurting me.

  You have been given the Quest: Deliver the Rune Lockbox to Hierophant Johannes. There is no time limit on this quest.

  Success: Ord, +500 Faction.

  Failure: Ord, -1000 Faction.

  Do you accept? Yes/No

  “Yes, Brother Bernabo.” Another quest! One which would grant me an incredible amount of Faction with Ord or put me into an unbelievable hole with Him should I fail. I felt my spine freeze and my guts twist into a knot. My hands shook as I clutched my satchel close. The box was neither heavy nor large and it had fit without issue amongst the rest of my possessions. I would move it into my Inventory as soon as I could.

  “Do not open it except under the gravest of circumstances. Now then…” Brother Bernabo mumbled a prayer under his breath and passed a hand over my face.

  Brother Bernabo casts [Second Wind].

  Your Stamina increases by 100%!

  “Over the side, Brother Kenric! The Gods will guide you! Trust in them!”

  “Brother Bernabo, please I don’t think I can make it!” Brother Bernabo, whose small stature belied a hidden strength, picked me up and pitched me over the rail! I fell, the rope around my waist trailing after until it pulled taught and brought the barrel careening down after me. Gods forgive me, my words were not kind to Brother Bernabo in those moments especially when I hit the frigid ocean water. I clamped my eyes and jaw shut as I went under and fighting against panic I fought back to the surface.

  The Eagle’s Talon had not been sitting idle all this time; the wind and the Abyssal Wyrm kept the ship moving along its course, but I was still shocked and horrified at how far away it was when I resurfaced. I opened my mouth to shout for help, but a wave splashed into my mouth silencing my cries. Not that anyone aboard would have heard me or been able to help. The Wyrm had grown tired of toying with its food.

  With a scream that sounded far too high pitched for such a large monster the Abyssal Wyrm gave the Eagle’s Talon a final strike. Like an executioner’s sword through a neck, the Wyrm’s tail split Eagle’s Talon in two from port to starboard and both halves immediately began to sink beneath the waves and those remaining crewmen were all swallowed into the waiting jaws of the Abyssal Wyrm.

  I found my barrel and held onto it as well I could, managing to straddle it like a boy might sit a horse upon his first ride. I laid my cheek against the sodden wood and caught my breath exhausted. I watched Eagle’s Talon sink until it disappeared beneath the ocean’s surface as if it had never been. Brother Bernabo and my Brother Novices were gone. With each subsequent moment I kept expecting the Abyssal Wyrm to surface and take me too, but it never showed itself again. Perhaps it was content with the lives it had consumed and didn’t care a fig for one lone Priest lying spent over a barrel somewhere in the Orichalcum Ocean.

  “Trust in the Gods, Brother Bernabo?” I coughed, fighting against panic. I was doomed. I had no ship, no supplies, no skills I could make use of out here, let alone any hope for another ship to pass by. “I’ve trusted in them this far, haven’t I? One of them gave me this new life for a reason, didn’t they?” Brother Bernabo had used a skill and said I would survive. Surely, he would not have lied to me, would he? Not after entrusting me with such an important task!

  I tugged at my satchel, which lay partially in the water. It was soaked through, but I could feel the outline of the box within. I sagged with relief and laid my cheek back against the barrel. Was it my imagination or was the storm dying down? No, as if the presence of the Wyrm itself had brought the storm to begin with, that the beast was now absent, the sea returned to normal. Little by little, the clouds parted, and light once again shone down. It was then I experienced the first of three miracles.

  The first miracle was sighting land when the last of the storm blew away. I nearly wept for joy. I remembered from Brother Bernabo and Captain Pinkspit’s conversation days earlier that Eagle’s Talon had planned to first sail along the eastern coast of Aetheria and then cut east to Port Tyren across the sea. Hypothetically, I assumed the ship had not yet reached the point where it had planned to cut east. The eastern coast of Aetheria was what I was looking at now. My geography lessons told me that only two notable areas existed north of Ordheim. The Free City of Kore, which was a Trading Outpost of the Dwarven Nation of Tsarkov and the Hinterlands north of that, which were Southeast of the Duchy of Tekslav.

  If I can find my way to Kore, I should be alright. Ordheim has friendly relations with them. The Hinterlands might be a bit trickier, but there could be a fishing village or a logging camp where I might find help, Ord willing.

  “Ara’s Guidance, more like.” If I was going to be a priest for Hope, then it was time to start praying for the proper divine’s attention. “But how do I do that, when you no longer exist, Ara?” I giggled, as my current situation started pushing me to the edge. “What in the world am I doing here?” I shouted. “A boy trying to locate pieces of a dead God, trying to please my family, my Church, oh I’m sorry ALL the Churches!” I punched the barrel and heard a hollow thump. “Now I’m in the middle of the Ocean, everyone is dead but me and I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

  I took a full minute to calm my breathing and wiped the tears from my eyes. I checked the rope around my waist and found it still secure. I was exhausted enough that falling into the water here could still lead to drowning, but the sight of land had galvanized me into using my hands to paddle. My shoulders started to burn almost immediately, despite the buff from Second Wind. Neither my Strength nor my Constitution attributes were anything special, but I took breaks and kept repeating my new mantra:

  “I’m going to forge my own path. Gods of Aramyr, hear me. My own path!”

  You have gained +25 Faction with Mir, Wik, Gor, Qas and Sul.

  “Hmph!”

  Thankfully, the second miracle made itself known after an hour of desperate paddling. A current was pushing me in the direction I wanted to go. Even after a particularly long break, for I was beginning to feel the absence of drinkable water and the presence of an unbearably hot sun baking every piece of exposed skin, that I was noticeably drawing closer. I estimated that if I kept up my intermittent paddling and let the current continue to guide me, I would be on land in another few hours.

  It took three hours to be exact. My feet were numb from being submerged in the water so long I barely managed to crawl onto the beach. The buff had finally worn off too. This was turning out to be day of many firsts, for a window also opened to inform me I had received my first ever debuffs.

  Heat Exhaustion Level 1: -10% to Stamina

  Dehydration Level 1: -15% to Stamina and Health Regeneration

  When I did finally collapse onto the wet sand, the first thing I did was make a prayer of thanks to all the Gods. I wanted to cover my bases and didn’t want to offend anyone, so I also thanked Gor, God of Beasts, for sparing me from the Abyssal Wyrm. I also thanked Mahalib, who was not a God, but a powerful World Beast who lived somewhere deep in the Orichalcum. I felt I should show him some gratitude for keeping the sharks and squid away while I paddled to shore.

  “To any God I may have missed, I beg your forgiveness and indulgence. I am your grateful servant, but I really need to rest awhile.” I passed out.

  When I awoke a few hours later, the sun was starting to set. My mouth was dry, and my skin felt rubbed raw. My clothes were still damp, and I had lost the pair of Common Monk’s Slippers I had been given to wear. Thankfully, I still had my pair of Blight Warder’s Boots which I equipped and I finally moved the Runed Lockbox into my Inventory where I knew it would be safe. Unless I died. To avoid that, I needed to find water, food and shelter, but my body was screaming at me to rest for just a short while longer. A few more minutes to calm the fire in my muscles and the ache in my joints. I closed my eyes and slept as the waves lapped against my ankles.